Volauvent and Five and a Quarter
by handschuhmaus
Summary: Inexplicable crack, with neither plot nor continuity, really. Two unauthorized individuals make their way into Dumbledore's office in the headmaster's absense, and a lot of questionably edible things appear.


_Disclaimer: I do not own them._

Voldemort stalked dismayedly along the corridor, holding high above his head a square object, black with a metallic trim, as if it were lighting his way. It was not. It did not emit light. As a matter of fact, as far as Voldemort was aware, it didn't appear to do anything.

"Lollipop! Lemon drop! Lily pads! Ferrero Rocher! Nutella! Cadbury! Chocolate frog!" he shouted, with growing intensity at the gargoyle, which obstinately continued to deny him admittance.

"Truffle! Everlasting Gobstopper! Nerds! Er… Reese's Peanut Butter Cups!"

The gargoyle gave him an inappropriate wink and slid away, as he began a high stepping march in place. He stomped purposefully up the stairs, hoping to catch the old coot in his lair.

This was not to be. Dumbledore was nowhere to be found. However, there was a fish on the man's desk, along with a message, in extremely horrendously atrocious penmanship, that said, "So long, and thanks for all the fish."

Our hero read this message, nodded solemnly, and then sat back in the headmaster's own seat, twiddling his thumbs and drumming his fingers against the square object where it rested against his belly.

After about five minutes, he became bored of this most unproductive activity, and started to shuffle through the papers on his enemy's desk.

The first paper was a news article on the cultivation of lotuses in shaded artificial water features. Most unhelpful. The second item in the stack was a to-do list, including such enlightening activities as "contemplate chocolate milk", "create lemon meringue Key lime cheese Boston cream raspberry apple strudel peach pie cake", "write to Terry Pratchett", "move bishop to E17", "find scarlet pimpernel", "construct edible guillotine", "order hiking socks", "read _Bayonets and the Men who Eat Them_", "pickles", "feasibility of rabbit powered slave ship?", "Mickey Mouse ears for Minerva", "pick up Gellert's favorite chocolate from supermarket", "get dry cleaning", and "watch _The Headmaster Strikes Back_". The third was a folder of clippings, advertising a venture into mitten vending machines. Underneath that was a stack of student folders, and beneath that was an extremely flat piece of toast.

Voldemort rang for a house elf.

Contrary to his expectations, a spread of food, apparently freshly summonsed from the local IKEA (it was boldly emblazoned with their logo, and smelt fragrantly of lingonberries), materialized in the space almost beyond the desk, above nothing, and clattered to the floor.

Below the toast was a large stack of brochures for a clearly defunct tourist trap in the town of "Bath Axe."

A man stumbled out of the Floo.

Voldemort, most magnanimously, promptly offered him an egg cream.

"A what?" asked the man.

"An egg cream," repeated Voldemort, adjusting the flamboyant green hat he had just conjured on his head.

"I'm here to see about a disciplinary matter regarding my son."

"Why didn't your wife come?" the Dark Wizard asked, examining the obverse side of the object.

"…Her leg is broken," offered the man.

"Oh. I'm a confectioner, not a doctor, so I hadn't the slightest."

"I haven't the faintest clue what you mean by that. And are you really the headmaster?"

"No."

"Why is there food on the floor?"

"Because this place is programmed incorrectly! Of course I don't know why there's food on the floor."

The guest only grunted.

"Can I offer you a pitcher of Kool-Aid?" asked Voldemort.

"No."

"Correct!" trilled the wizard. "I haven't got a pitcher, so I can't do any such thing."

"Who are you, anyway?"

"I am Lord Voldemort."

The man turned around and stared at the fireplace, and then sat down in one of the chairs across the desk from Voldemort, despite the fact that it was smeared with Dijon mustard and currently contained a partial slice of cheese.

"Could I interest you in a lovely tin of finishing nails?"

"You haven't got any of those either," pointed out the parent.

Voldemort nodded, appropriately interestedly, and curled his lips into the grin of a shark.

"You've got a nice fireplace there."

"'Tain't mine." he said, and tapped the mysterious square against the desk.

"What have you got a floppy disk for?" inquired the man.

"Is _that_ what this is?" Voldemort asked guardedly, immediately leaning over the disk, but unfortunately almost losing his hat. He was forced to make an awkward grab at the accessory.

"Yes. It is. Didn't you know?"

"No." replied Voldemort, and held it up once again, high, examining it as if it were a trophy and a beacon.

The floo flared, and a koala bear walked out of Dumbledore's rooms. Or at least that must have been where it came from, but Voldemort had not, heretofore, spotted the entrance or connection.

The visitor looked rapidly back and forth from the koala bear to Voldemort's revolting visage, seeming to confuse himself. "Did you…" he began, but trailed off.

"Did I what?" asked Voldemort, as a pamphlet advertising cruises in New Zealand and fully furnished extra large lifts toppled off the desk.

"Did you turn the headmaster into a koala bear?"

"No. I don't know where it came from. I don't even know from whence it came."

"Er."

"Unthinkable! How ungrateful! I explain—" Voldemort thundered, rising from the desk, "—that I did not have anything to do with the creation of the koala bear, and you _object_! You OB-bloody-JECT!—"

"You reiterated what you had just said, but it sounded like you meant to add something…" ventured his visitor, scratching his ear.

"Oh." Voldemort nodded, sitting back down. "Very twee."

"What?" asked the man in disbelief.

"Sometimes, I have these… these times, when—" the Dark Wizard clamped a hand over his own mouth before he could belt out what promised to be some sort of opera aria.

"When what?" encouraged the guest. On this line alone, he could have been a convincing preschool teacher, but alas, in most areas, he did not fit the ideal description of one such employed. So much for his prospects as a teacher of very young children.

" When… when a bear comes out of the floo. LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU! GERONIMO!" Voldemort screamed, and ran toward the door, flinging the floppy disk into the floo, whence was emerging a large bear.

"Why," breathed his visitor, as they madly scrambled for the door handle, "is there a bear inside the school?"

"I don't know," said Voldemort. "But you'd better go catch it."

"_Catch it?_ With what, precisely? And isn't it a danger to the students? How did a bear get into the office, anyway? Can it get into the main part of the school?" he asked.

"Sorry. Excuse me. I thought I was telling Peter a joke."

"My name's not Peter, it's Tobias, Mr. Voldymort."

They tugged the door open.

"Oh, well, let's jump in this phone booth."

"Incongruous phone booths… What? This is a broom closet."

"Sure is, mate," replied the dark wizard, as he rappelled down a long dark hole in the dead middle of the rear wall of the broom closet, into a cave.

"There must be… some sort of inner dimensional rift, or something…" complained the parent, as Voldemort sank within the hole. "Hey! _Why_ is there a stove in a broom closet?"

And though he was not a wizard, his curiosity led him to fool with the settings on the front of the stove, and this only resulted in a torrential outpour of water from the ceiling (most mysteriously), and his being carried into the labyrinthine attics of Hogwarts School in the ensuing flood.

* * *

Dumbledore walked into his office, burdened with a parcel of tie-dyed robes and trailed by a very small boy. He stopped abruptly; the boy walked into his legs, and he ruffled the kid's hair. The child was almost entirely covered in chocolate.

"For some people, there are no excuses, Aberforth," the great man said, as he sat down in a plate of smoked salmon.

The child blinked and toppled over, knocking over the goat beside it, which caused a trail of manuals to various eldritch devices to fall in a domino effect. The headmaster cackled evilly for the sheer pleasure of it, and a plate of very fragrantly garlic-and-pepper spaghetti fell from a trapdoor in the ceiling straight onto his hair. And beard.

This would mean a lot of extra work for the house elves.

_A/N: The title is explained partially by the twentieth chapter of kbinnz's "Harry's New Home". And the instigation for this fic was a line in one of the first fics you get if you search for Voldemort & Snape Humor fics on ffnet. Something about "floppy"_


End file.
